Friday, February 10, 2012
Feathered friends don't let feathered friends do meth.
Gloom is beautiful.
Even as it clubs you over the head.
Soaking it all in.
Fine, Mr. Tree, we'll leave. But first --
-- what's behind door number two?
Breakout, from the burbs to the burg --
IT'S A BOMB RUN YOU FOOLS
Know who else breaks stuff? Fred Durst. Be ashamed.
Okay, the sun ain't the worst thing around.
Are those two papaver somniferum pods? Just say Nancy.
In the shadow of our pale companion.
Verily, mine soule ys mordaunt.
Any shot you can ruin --
-- I can ruin better, or at least equally.